**Corporal punishment of a child in this chapter.**
Life at Malfoy Manor was nothing like life at the Institution, which was nothing like living with her parents in the muggle world.
Hermione was entranced by the portraits of Malfoys past (whom she didn't know Lucius had had a word with lest they scream obscenities or insults all night and day), and idyllic scenery. Paintings and pictures at home hadn't moved, and the Institution hadn't much in the way of decor.
The grounds were manicured, blossoming, and seemingly endless. During the day, she and Draco could often be found running along the little lake and terrorizing the peacocks, or under sweeping trees as they took turns reading books of mutual interest.
Home with her parents had been, as far as she remembered, much less opulent and much more cosy. They'd had a little house with a little yard. Hermione had had her own little room, though she often slept between her parents in their much larger bed. Helen, she remembered her mother's name was. Helen was beautiful, or perhaps it was just her childlike adoration that made it so. However, even her father had said she was a beauty worth fighting for. Hermione had her brown eyes and brown hair, which was streaked through with dark blonde from the sun currently. She couldn't remember her father's name, but she had his curls. He'd kept them fairly short, dark hair too wild when longer. But he'd tugged her curls affectionately and said they suited her.
At least she knew they were all Grangers. The Institution didn't change names, nor did fostering.
The Grangers all loved books, of that she was sure. The two years in the Institution had dimmed much, but she knew the evenings cuddled between her parents while they took turns reading to her weren't imagined. Her parents were loving, warm, kind, and intelligent.
The Malfoys were not warm and loving. Certainly, Narcissa doted on her son, but in her own way. She kissed his cheek, embraced him, called him pet names. Lucius was not unkind to his son, but he was firm and his embraces were fewer. Both of them gave him whatever he wanted that money could buy without a thought.
Thus it was that Hermione also wanted for little in the way of material possessions. She had a nice bedroom that, while not as lavish as Draco's suite, was fitted with everything she could need. It had a bed large enough that it would suit her still as she grew, a wardrobe, a dresser, a trunk for travelling, a mirror to ensure she was presentable. She had her own bathroom as well, though it was beside her room rather than adjoined to it. She rather thought this little wing had been servants quarters when human servants were in fashion.
Draco was magnanimous with his belongings. His toys were hers, and if he didn't want to share, he asked for another so she could have whatever it was too.
"You're my companion," he once said, as though that explained everything.
It did, she supposed. The Malfoys were possessive people, and liked their things to reflect their high social status. They enjoyed when others envied them. Hermione, as the Malfoy family foster, was well-kept. Narcissa taught her how to manage her curls, and bought her pretty clothes in rich materials, and she looked every inch the proper young lady.
She spent her days with Draco and they passed mostly pleasantly, as Draco was rarely disciplined, so her time passed relatively easily. Until the day Draco broke his broom and pitched a fit.
Lucius came out from his office to see his son holding the pieces of his broom and screaming at his mother that he didn't want a new one, he wanted his broom fixed. And he wanted it now.
It was one of the few things Draco hadn't insisted on getting two of, since Hermione resolutely refused to fly.
"What's all this?" the man said as he surveyed the scene before him.
"Draco is fussing because he's broken his broom," Narcissa explained calmly. The boy was silent now, regarding his father with cheeks still red, the broken end of his broom still in-hand, even while splinters fell on the marble floor. "He was flying in the house," she added.
He frowned at the boy. "Draco, you know you're not allowed to fly in the house." Draco nodded. "And throwing tantrums is not becoming behavior of a Malfoy."
The boy blushed and looked down at the broom remnants. "I was being careful, father. I would have gone outside, but Hermione wanted to get a book and she was taking too long, and-"
Lucius raised a hand. "Whatever the reason, those are the rules and you're to obey them." He turned his attention to the girl now. "Miss Granger, Draco, follow me to my study." He held the door open for them, the two children dragging their feet, Draco especially sullen, and Hermione anxiously wringing her hands.
He observed them, noting Draco's eyes darting at the girl with something akin to worry. The girl had her head down, as if trying to avoid notice. It was the first time Hermione would receive punishment for Draco's wrongdoing, and Lucius was curious to see whether it would work as intended. That he'd taken to blaming her as he explained himself didn't bode well. However, Lucius had promised his wife he would try.
With that thought, he said, "Miss Granger, please lay your hands on my desk and lean forward." Her eyes widened to saucers, but she obeyed without hesitation. Lucius considered her uncomfortably. The girl lived under his home, but it felt strange to be disciplining her this way. Still, he realized he could not treat her any differently than he would have his son. "Lift your skirt."
Her hands flinched on the desk, then froze for a moment.
"Now, if you would."
She hastily gripped the soft blue material and hoisted it up until Lucius bade her stop. He looked over to Draco, drew him to stand so he could see each hit, and said, "This is what will happen when you do something wrong from now on, Draco. You won't be touched, but Miss Granger will suffer in your stead. Do you understand?" When the boy nodded, Lucius steeled himself and began to lay hits on her backside.
She stiffened at the first one, and by the third, he could hear her sniffling. He tried to remind himself that this was beneficial for both children- Draco would learn his lesson, and Miss Granger was receiving everything a child could ask for and more, considering her blood status. By the tenth and final blow, he had nearly convinced himself.
He faced his son. "Now, Draco. What have you learned?"
The boy's eyes were red rimmed as though he'd been the one hit, and his cheeks burned with shame. "Don't fly in the house, and don't- don't throw fits," he said in a voice that threatened to break.
Lucius nodded. "Good. Now go on, both of you. I'll see you at dinner."
Hermione dropped her skirt and shakily crossed to the door, where Draco hurried to meet her.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," the boy said, hands reaching out as if to embrace her, but waffling as he realized his affections might not be welcome.
The girl wiped her forearm across her face. "It's alright, Draco." She smiled comfortingly at him, though there was a sad edge to it. "I'm resilient, right?"
"Right," he murmured, taking her hand in his.
That first time had been especially strange to all participants, but it grew into just the way of things over time. Lucius was loath to admit it at first, but finally confided to his wife after a year had passed that Draco seemed to take punishments for Hermione to heart more than he ever had his own.
"I told you it would work out," Narcissa told him, a hand laying fondly on his cheek. "She is a surprisingly good influence on him, and more intelligent than I would have thought possible."
She was everything the Malfoy family had believed mudbloods weren't; she was a quick learner, and retained information once she had it. Moreover, she was thoughtful, logical.
Narcissa and Lucius had indulged the children once by letting them try a few simple spells. Draco had wanted to try dueling spells, and Narcissa had nearly been apoplectic at the boy's destructive attempts. Hermione had asked after a spell to undo his damage, and (using Lucius' own wand; Narcissa's unicorn hair didn't favor her the way his dragon heartstring did) once taught the proper movements and incantations, she set about trying it out. On her third attempt wielding the wand that was ridiculously long for her, a vase that had shattered in Draco's rampage collected itself back together.
"The exception proves the rule," Abraxas Malfoy's portrait had murmured then.
Lucius and Narcissa had both nodded at that, the latter drawing herself up with a small, prideful smile.
After that, she had insisted the girl attend any social event Draco did. If they had an exceptional mudblood, they should show her off as they would with any other exceptional thing they owned. It became common knowledge that the Malfoys favored their little mudblood and would bring her along to any child-friendly event. And the other purebloods acknowledged that the girl was well-mannered, and seemed intelligent enough. She was obedient, quiet, a model of how mudbloods should behave among their betters. She even called those fostering her Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa.
The only thing anyone could think to say negative was that she seemed a touch spirited when it came to knowledge, though that wasn't much of a fault as those things went. And Draco Malfoy had become a bit less whinging and a little more gracious since they took her in (though no one would say that to Narcissa's face).
By the time the two children received their Hogwarts letters, the family could hardly imagine life without Hermione Granger constantly at Draco's side, least of all the two children.